Michelle was also a young woman. A young single woman. And she was very concerned about the prospect of becoming a middle aged single woman. Michelle loved being a pastor, but she also wanted to be a wife and mother some day.
She had several things working on her behalf in this regard. First, she was quite pretty. Second, she was surprisingly hip for a clergy person. She knew all the hot new bands and liked romantic comedy and horror movies. She dressed stylishly, although she was careful not to be seen wearing anything that could be considered scandalous by members of her congregation. She was also an avid water skier. Working against her were the conclusions men tended to jump to when told her profession, and the fact that she could be terribly clumsy. Which explains the embarrassing conditions under which she met Ian.
It all happened because Michelle was late to her first hospital visit. Seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins, a lifelong congregant at the little church, was having minor surgery. Pastor O’Donnell, church secretary Tammy Billings, and Michelle were going to visit her in the recovery room that afternoon to cheer her up. Michelle thought that should be interesting since in the month she’d been at the little church she’d yet to see Henrietta appear in any way cheerful.
However Michelle had to meet the others at the hospital because she was forced to spend the morning waiting for the cable installer at her new apartment. The cable company had given her a helpful four-hour window and the installer arrived only an hour after that window. Perhaps that sounds unlikely, but the Normal cable company has much better customer service than most.
Complicating matters, Michelle had never been to the hospital before and, much to her embarrassment, her sense of direction was laughably bad and got worse when she hurried. Despite the modest size and general grid layout of Normal, Michelle made several wrong turns and arrived fifteen minutes after she had agreed to meet the others.
Michelle screeched into the first available parking spot she saw. She hopped out of the car, slammed the door, and clicked the “lock” button on her key fob all in one motion. She started for the hospital entrance, but was pulled up short. Her sudden stop caused her to drop her keys, which bounced under the adjacent car, a red SUV.
Michelle looked back to see what had stopped her and discovered she’d slammed the hem of her skirt in the car door. Which was now locked. She gave the skirt an experimental tug but it was stuck fast. She kneeled down to retrieve her keys and found they were a tantalizing six inches out of her reach.
At first she laughed at the ridiculousness of her predicament. She lay prone on the asphalt, stretching and twisting, all to no avail. Then she let out a string of decidedly un-ladylike and un-pastor like profanity. After which a voice said, “what seems to be the problem?”
Michelle quickly climbed to her feet, her face flushing crimson. The owner of the voice was a handsome young man in his mid-twenties. He wore casually hip clothes and a bandage on his wrist. His hair was tousled in a sexy way that some men spend too much time in front of a mirror trying to achieve. Michelle simultaneously felt her heart skip a beat and her face flush even more.
“I dropped my keys,” she said, “and, well, I’m kind of stuck. Do you think you could get them for me?”
“I imagine I could,” the good-looking gentleman said with a twinkle in his eye, “but I like to know the names of distressed damsels before I rescue them.”
“Michelle,” she said.
“Ian,” he told her and offered his bandaged hand. She shook it gently but he still cringed.
“What happened?” Michelle asked.
“Sprained my wrist while I was getting a kitten out of a tree for a little girl.”
“Really?” Michelle’s heart skipped another beat. Good thing I’m at a hospital, she thought.
“No,” he admitted. “Actually I tripped on the curb while going to get a bagel this morning. I just thought the kitten story might impress you. Hold on.”
He disappeared around the other side of the red SUV. Michelle took advantage of those few seconds to fix her hair in the rearview mirror of her car.
Ian popped back up and returned her keys. Michelle unlocked the door and freed her skirt. She was horrified to discover that it was badly stained with grease.
“Oh no!” she moaned, examining the damage.
“You can’t go in there like that,” Ian said sympathetically. “Guess you better take it off.”
“Ha, ha,” she said and shot him a nasty look. But her heart was doing the Macarena.
Just then Tammy Billings bustled up. “There you are Pastor Michelle.”
On the word “pastor” Ian glanced at her sharply. Michelle knew what that glance meant. The disheveled-in-a-sexy-way young man would not be asking for her phone number.
Tammy gave Ian the once over. “Who’s this?” she asked.
“Ian Wells,” he said, offering her his injured hand and grimacing again when she took it.
“He was helping me out of a little… predicament,” Michelle explained.
“Oh,” Tammy said. “Well, we’d better get in there. Everyone’s waiting for you. Mr. Wells, it was nice to meet you. We’d love to see you at church on Sunday.”
“Pleasure meeting both of you,” Ian replied.
“Thanks for your help,” Michelle said. She followed Tammy into the hospital with one last glance back at Ian, whom she assumed she’d never see again except perhaps for an awkward chance encounter in a coffee shop. She would soon be proven wrong… though not about the awkward part.
To be continued…
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